


TMI

by justkeeponwriting



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Sexual Situations, Basically they do it wrong before they manage to do it right, Frottage, Grace Sex, Grace Sharing, M/M, Making Love, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 13:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1471165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justkeeponwriting/pseuds/justkeeponwriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Castiel and Dean are doing it wrong, and it's not pleasant for anyone. Least of all to Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	TMI

**Author's Note:**

> Um... everyone apparently needs to write grace!sex at least once? Concrit is very much appreciated!

Prolonged, uncomfortable silences weren’t exactly a new thing between Cas and Dean, but this one had to take the cake.

Cas was clutching the sheets and holding them to his chest like he was Julia freaking Roberts in a rom-com or something, and Dean was silently fuming to his left and desperately trying not to mention the sheets thing out loud. Or anything that went on in his head right now, actually.

“Dean—” Cas started, but Dean waved his hand at Cas, instantly dismissing whatever Cas wanted to say.

“Save it,” Dean snapped. “I don’t need to hear it.”

“But we—”

“Don’t.”

Cas looked down at his lap, clearly trying to remain patient. “We need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Dean snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. Unlike Cas, he was very unconcerned about his nudity and even in the chill of the motel room, stayed on top of the sheets and spread out his legs.

“Dean—”

“We had sex. You didn’t like it.” Dean grimaced. “You _hated_ it.”

Cas sighed. “I didn’t hate it, Dean. I just didn’t find it very… stimulating.”

“Fine.” Dean glanced at the ceiling, trying to gather some sort of cosmic wisdom for this situation. Unfortunately, no one had written a relationship guide for dumbass angels and emotionally compromised hunters (to his knowledge, at least), and so he was left with nothing but the option to talk about something he most definitely didn’t want to talk about. “Okay. Fine. What did I do wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“You did nothing wrong, Dean.”

“Bullshit. You said it was _uncomfortable_.”

Cas sighed. “But you didn’t hurt me, Dean. I would’ve told you if you did.”

“Okay,” Dean said. “But you… you like me touching you, right?”

“Yes, Dean, I like it when you touch me. That’s not the problem.”

And wasn’t that the riddle for the ages. Dean could’ve pretended Cas’s lack of interest was some sort of angel thing, like, maybe humans and angels just weren’t sexually compatible, if he hadn’t met several other angels who very clearly knew how to use their dick. Not that he liked to think about it much these days, but Anna had had no problems with sex – although technically she’d been human at that point and even if she’d been mojo’d up like Cas was, she had grown up as a human and had different experiences. Gabriel and Balthazar, to his knowledge, were nothing _but_ horn dogs, and Cas had never mentioned that human/angel relations were a big taboo or anything. This lead Dean to the nasty thought that maybe it was just Cas, then, and that was a whole another topic for conversation.

“Okay,” Dean slowly said, “what’s the problem, then?”

“Your soul is not interested.”

“My _what_?”

“Your soul,” Cas repeated, a pink glow starting to stain his cheeks, “doesn’t let me in.”

Well. That was a surprise. Dean’s original train of thought had been correct. It was a weird angel thing after all.

“O-kay,” Dean started, “so… what? You want to touch my soul?”

If Dean looked very closely, he could see how pained this topic made Cas.

“Angels communicate with their grace,” Cas explained, “and when we mate, our graces melt together.”

“Woah, wait, wait, wait.”

“It’s not literal, Dean.”

“But you’re a… celestial wavelength of… whatever. How exactly does that work?”

“It’s… hard to explain,” Cas said, “but much like humans communicate through touch, we communicate through our graces. Emotions, intents, thoughts can be shared through it.” Cas pulled the sheet up again, looking more embarrassed than Dean had ever seen him. “Mating is a very intense experience. Grace-sharing shouldn’t be done with just anyone.”

Dean thought over this for a while. “Your brothers didn’t seem to have that problem.”

“It depends on the person,” Cas snapped, “much like how humans behave sexually depends on the person.”

“Okay, sorry.” Dean took a breath. “But, Cas, I don’t have a grace.”

“Your soul will do just fine.”

“And you said my soul wasn’t interested.” Dean turned to Cas, now vaguely anxious. “Cas, you know that’s a load of crap, right? I mean, I like you. I uh, really, _really_ like you. I don’t have any problems letting you in, or whatever.”

“Your soul disagrees,” Cas said.

“But that’s bullcrap, Cas.”

“Dean,” Cas sighed, “Can we just go to sleep?”

Dean’s eyes instantly hardened at the rejection, and furious – at himself or Cas, he couldn’t tell – he jumped off the bed and started to pull on his clothes. He had to walk around the room, because their clothes had been shed in quite a frenzy, and he couldn’t even find his other sock and had to pick up a new pair from his duffel bag. All the while, he could feel the heavy weight of Cas’s eyes on his back.

“Dean—”

“Save it, Cas,” Dean muttered, pulling his boots on. “I need a drink.”

Cas leant forward on the bed, towards Dean, although he didn’t get up. “I’m not rejecting you, Dean. This doesn’t change anything.”

Dean swallowed around the block in his throat, and didn’t know how to answer that.

“Yes, it does, Cas,” he finally said, quietly, and left the room.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t very healthy, and Dean knew it, but when he encountered problems that he just couldn’t handle, he got drunk. In this case, he wasn’t even halfway drunk with his second beer bottle when Sam showed up at the bar and slid to the stool next to his.

“This better be good, Dean,” Sam said in the tone that indicated that he’d been doing some super-important research in his own motel room that _really couldn’t wait until morning, Dean_. Dean snorted at the voice in his head, before he remembered why he was brooding in the first place and put his beer down.

“Dude,” Dean started, “I need help.”

“Um, okay?”

“It’s about Cas.”

“Okay?”

“We, uh…” Dean’s ears were starting to turn pink, and before he could rethink his decision, he blurt out, “We had sex and it was uncomfortable and awful and he didn’t like what we did and Cas said my soul ‘didn’t let him in’ and ‘my soul wasn’t interested’ and now he’s never going to let me ride his dick again.”

“Okay, wow, um, I did not need to know that.” Sam grimaced and took a huge gulp of his beer that blessedly had just arrived.

“Will you just listen to me?” Dean asked. “This is a serious problem. He didn’t like it and now I’m freaking out.”

“Okay,” Sam took a breath, “this whole conversation is seriously TMI and I never want to discuss my brother and his boyfriend’s—”

“He’s not—”

“—sex life ever again, _but_ ,” Sam emphasized, completely ignoring Dean’s small freak-out, “if Cas says your soul is not on board, then that’s it.”

“How the hell can my soul not be on board? I’m more than on board with—” Seeing Sam’s pained expression, Dean quickly swallowed the words and finished, “Uh, on board with… that.”

“Yeah, but Dean… Cas views the world differently. And I mean literally. If he sees your soul and it says a different thing than you do, that’s a huge turn-off.”

Dean fell silent for a while, bringing his beer bottle to his lips but not really drinking anything.

“How the hell do I convince him, then? It’s not like I can just grab my freakin’ soul and adjust it to glow ‘take me now’ or something.”

“Well, maybe you need to approach this differently.” Sam still looked uncomfortable, but at least he was looking at Dean now. “You said Cas didn’t… like… the things you did. So, uh, maybe he needs, I don’t know, a more sensual approach?”

“What, you want me to treat him like a 14-year-old virgin girl about to get her first orgasm?” Dean scoffed around his bottle. “Dude was in Sodom. He’s told me things I haven’t even tried.”

“That was disturbing, Dean,” Sam groaned, “for more than one reason.”

There was a short, awkward silence.

“Cas said he wants to touch my soul, or something like that.” Dean drowned the last of his bottle, and debated about ordering more. He decided against it. “Something like grace-sharing, only it’d be soul-grace-sharing in this case, very intense and emotional, blah blah. And then he said my soul didn’t like him.” Dean glared at the empty bottle. “My _soul_. How the fuck can my soul disagree with me?”

Sam hemmed and fell into his thoughts for a moment, as did Dean; only Dean was starting to hit the desperate stage of thinking, and was currently picturing Cas breaking up with him over a soul. A usual day in a Winchester’s life, of fucking course.

“Maybe your soul doesn’t disagree, per se,” Sam suddenly said.

“Huh?”

“Well, um, you do like Cas, right?”

“Obviously,” Dean scoffed.

“And you want be with him?”

“Sam. Is there a point to this?”

“Yes. For starters,” Sam said, “stop protesting that he’s your boyfriend.”

“He _isn’t_ ,” Dean insisted. “That sounds so lame. I prefer…” Dean stopped, not really sure what term he actually preferred, and seeing Sam’s raised eyebrows, he quickly settled for, “Uh, partner. And besides, it’s not like we have been together for that long.”

“Yeah, well, maybe that’s what got you into this mess in the first place,” Sam sighed. “Dean, just, think about it. Have you ever told Cas how you feel?”

“Sam. _What_.”

“The point is, have you _let him in_?” Sam stressed. “You really, really, _really_ should talk to Cas about this rather than to me, but maybe that’s exactly how this grace thing works. Maybe, I don’t know, his grace can tell you’re not emotionally ready or something, so of course he’s uncomfortable.”

Dean blinked. Well, that certainly made more sense than anything else tonight.

“So, you’re basically saying I need to tell him I love him and make love to him on a bed of roses?”

“TMI, Dean,” Sam said, “but yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Now let’s never, ever discuss this again.”

“I’m buying you a beer,” Dean said. “So, uh, thanks.”

“The things I do for my brother,” Sam muttered, but accepted the beer nonetheless.

 

* * *

 

Because Dean was Dean, he obviously didn’t bring up the subject with Cas after returning to the motel, or even the next morning. To his credit, Cas didn’t treat Dean any different – they worked just as efficiently as usual, and in fact got so caught up with the hunt that they didn’t even have time to talk anything but business for the next few days. Hilariously, Sam was the only one who acted like something was out of the ordinary, giving them anxious glances and sympathetic claps on the shoulder, which, _what the fuck_. Sometimes Dean couldn’t wrap his head around how his brother’s brain worked. Just because he’d asked Sam’s help once didn’t mean that he’d be willing to talk about it ever again.

Then, after a few a days they wrapped up the hunt and returned to the motel, bloody, dirty and tired, but satisfied. Sam quickly retreated to his own room, and Dean didn’t need to check to know that Cas was following him to the other room. Dean didn’t wait as he strolled into the shower and slumped against the wall, letting the deliciously warm water wash away the blood from his skin. Though Cas had time and time again offered to clean up Dean’s wounds and clothes with just one touch, Dean felt like a good shower was a reward on its own after a good hunt, and he wouldn’t give that up.

Cas was patiently sitting on the bed when Dean finally emerged from the shower, toweling his hair and not bothering to cover up anything else. Cas’s eyes instantly flashed towards Dean when he stepped out of the bathroom, and trailed down on Dean’s body, completely unashamed.

“See something you like?” Dean asked, grinning.

“Dean.” Cas’s sounded like he had trouble getting the word out, and woah, that was a turn-on if nothing else. Dean paused his toweling for a second, letting a heavy gaze set between him and Cas, and then he quickly threw the towel on the chair in the corner and walked towards the bed. Cas stirred, looking like he desperately wanted to touch, but he remained as still on the bed as he apparently could. Dean stopped right in front of Cas, having inched himself between Cas’s legs, and for a moment, they only looked at each other, not wanting to break the moment.

“Dean,” Cas breathed.

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled, staring down at the very prominent bulge in Castiel’s slacks.

“Dean, we should… Can I—”

“Yes,” Dean said, although he barely had any idea what he was agreeing to. He simply wanted to fix this thing with Cas – they hadn’t gotten this far to give up after one lousy attempt in bed.

Cas placed his hands on Dean’s hips, delicately, but then just let them stay there, staring up to Dean. Dean didn’t know what that look was exactly for, but he guessed that he was supposed to take initiative here, and slipped on the bed to straddle Cas. Castiel groaned when their crotches met, and trying to coax the same reaction again, Dean pressed down, harder.

Cas’s hands scrambled for purchase as Dean pressed down again and again, building up a nice rhythm. Their breathing grew harder, and Dean would’ve actually been completely up to just continuing like this, because rutting against Cas was suddenly the most awesome thing _ever_ , but Cas’s hold on his hips was starting to sting, plus Castiel’s slacks were starting to chafe in a bad way against his cock. Dean hauled Castiel up for a kiss with his hands, twirling the black strands with his fingers, and Cas eagerly answered it, his hold growing to a painful one.

“Um, easy there,” Dean said against Cas’s lips.

“Dean?”

“You’re starting to hurt me.”

Castiel immediately eased his hold, looking chastised. “I’m sorry.”

Dean answered by simply moving his hands on Castiel’s shoulders and pressing him down on the bed. Cas went willingly, and once seated firmly on Cas’s lap, Dean started to remove his clothing. When he got rid of the tie and managed to open the shirt and started press kisses on Cas’s chest, Cas was already breathing hard and ragged. He ripped rest of the shirt away, shucking it aside and moved on to Cas’s belt.

“Dean,” Castiel breathed when Dean mouthed at his belly. He threw the belt aside, moving to open Cas’s slacks. Castiel’s hands were moving relentlessly on the bed, apparently in search of a good position, and Dean was momentarily distracted by that, before re-focusing on getting Cas’s pants open. This was actually the part they’d stumbled on a few times before reaching their first real attempt at sex, and determined not to let any awkwardness get in the way, Dean unzipped and pulled Cas’s pants off as quickly as he could. The boxers followed immediately, but then Dean paused to stare at the sight beneath him.

Cas was breathing raggedly under him, hands still nervously clutching the sheets. There was a slight blush working its way all over his body, and Dean traced it with his eyes, following the trail all the way to Cas’s hard cock. He gulped at the sight, the arousal twisting his stomach in a pleasant manner. Unable to stop himself when Cas’s ragged breaths registered in his ears, Dean grabbed Cas’s cock and fisted it rapidly for a few times. Cas completely froze. Dean noticed that, and immediately withdrew his hand.

“Um,” Dean intelligently said, “sorry?”

“No, Dean, just…” Cas slipped his right hand to Dean’s hair. “Come here.”

Dean followed the movement and leant down to kiss Cas. They stayed like that for a few moments, trading kisses that were slow but didn’t lack passion. Determined again, Dean pressed his hips down, wanting to make this happen, wanting to make Cas feel good. He gyrated his hips, trying to find a good rhythm for them, but Cas wasn’t meeting his thrusts at all. Frustrated, Dean pressed down harsher, and that’s when Cas’s hands came up to his shoulders.

“Dean, you’re shaking—”

“No, I’m not, just, come on—”

“Dean.”

“Just, c’mon, Cas—”

“Dean, stop, that… That’s not—”

Dean stilled. “You don’t like this.”

Guiltily, Cas looked elsewhere. Dean sighed. It was obvious that Cas was barely half-hard by now, and Dean wasn’t really feeling up to anything anymore, either.

“This isn’t working, is it?”

“No,” Cas agreed.

“Fuck.”

“That would be the goal, yes.”

Dean couldn’t help it: he let out a hysterical laugh that dissolved into undignified giggles. Trust Cas to dig up his sense of humor at a moment like this.

Dean fell on his back next to Cas, leaning against him in process. Cas hesitantly put an arm over Dean’s chest, turning to his side, and Dean relaxed into the hold and nudged into Cas.

“Okay. Um.” Dean ran his hand through his hair in nervousness. “Cas, I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a dick about this. I just…” He took a breath. “Sex should be a fun and easy thing. I want you to enjoy it, and I don’t know… I don’t know what to do.”

Cas pressed a small kiss on Dean’s cheek, which felt entirely too forgiving for Dean’s tastes, especially after that sort of horrendous performance, but it was also nice and intimate.

“Just… okay.” Dean purposefully locked eyes with Cas. “What do you want? What do you wanna do?”

Cas took a moment to answer. “You’re always in such a rush, Dean.”

That wasn’t something Dean had expected. “What?”

“You don’t let yourself think. You just rush into things and don’t let yourself feel it.”

That was a bit too hippy-ish or new earth-ish or whatever for Dean’s tastes, but he tried to take it seriously. After all, this was the whole problem why they were here. Come to think of it, that was exactly what had happened during their first attempt, as well: Dean rushing into it rough and fast, and Cas scrambling to keep up.

“So… you want it slower?” Dean asked. “Is that what the whole… soul thing is about?”

“I want you to stop and _feel_ ,” Cas said, staring in Dean’s eyes with such intensity that it took Dean’s breath away. “Not to shy away from it and rush past it.”

“Fine,” Dean said. “Let’s try it your way.” He immediately gripped Cas’s arm on his waist and inched his other hand under Cas, rolling over Cas. Cas’s hands shot up to rest on Dean’s hips, like previously, but then Cas gently rolled them over and settled atop Dean.

“Dean,” Cas said, the command clear in his voice, “just relax. This isn’t a race.”

“Well, it kinda sorta is, Cas.”

“ _Dean_.”

“Okay, okay.” Dean huffed. “Have it your way.”

This time, Cas took the reins. Gently, he laid himself over Dean – it felt a bit weird at first, being smothered by Castiel’s whole body, but then Cas mumbled a pointed “ _Dean_ ” against his neck and Dean willed himself to relax. Cas simply laid there, cheek against cheek, chest against chest, arm against arm, legs on top of legs, and the weirdness of it subsided quickly, when Dean realized that he could feel Castiel’s steady heartbeat against his own. That was a nice feeling, and once he’d relaxed into it, Dean lost himself in the sound so much that he almost startled when Castiel started to press little kisses against his cheek and nose. Dean turned his head towards Cas, catching him into a slow and chaste kiss, before Castiel started to mouth at Dean’s jaw and neck. Castiel’s fingers slotted between Dean’s, almost by accident, but Dean gladly squeezed back; it should’ve been weird that they were essentially holding hands in bed while pressing small kisses all over each others’ neck, but instead, it felt natural.

Cas was still holding Dean’s both hands when he started to slowly inch downwards, kissing Dean everywhere he could reach. Dean gasped when Cas’s mouth found his right nipple – he could feel Cas smile against his skin and mouth at the nipple with bit more enthusiasm after Dean’s surprised gasp, and grinning slightly, Dean let out a pleased moan when Cas moved to the left nipple and doubled his efforts there.

Cas let go of Dean’s hands to slide his fingers along Dean’s arms, all while still pressing kisses against Dean’s chest. The touch of Cas’s fingers against on his arms was so gentle that Dean almost didn’t feel it, but rather, he felt the otherwordly warmth radiating from them, and it tingled him down to his core. Cas’s fingers traveled to his neck, then down his sides, and Dean gasped when they settled on his hipbones.

By now, Dean was starting to harden again, and he felt that Cas was, too. Cas’s thumbs stroked his hipbones, and almost without noticing it, Dean’s hips arched up from the bed, towards Cas. There was a gasp, Dean didn’t know from whom – maybe them both? – and then, finally, Cas pressed down and let their cocks slide together.

Cas started to rub against him, his movements slow and deliberate, and normally, Dean would’ve complained about the lack of friction or poor rhythm, but this time, he willed himself to wait. It surprised him how the slow movements didn’t, in fact, annoy him after a while – on the contrary, the pleasure they brought started to roll over him in small but insistent waves, washing over his every cell.

Castiel picked up the rhythm a bit, the precome letting their cocks sliding against each other easily, and Dean arched his back into the feel. Cas’s fingers were still drawing figures on his hips, and Dean’s hands suddenly moved up to Cas’s forearms, before Dean even knew what he was doing. Cas gasped at that, lowering himself so that he could kiss Dean, and Dean’s hold on Cas’s forearms only tightened.

Cas’s kisses lit up his entire body. There was no other way of putting it: suddenly, their movements started to almost still in his mind, second to the burning good feel of where their lips were connected. It was almost scary, the way Dean was drowning in the feeling.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, completely awed. His skin felt like it was on fire, all over, and it slowly inched even deeper than that, stratum by stratum, tissue by tissue, until it consumed him wholly. Dean was absolutely ragged at this point, and Cas’s harsh panting only egged him on. It flashed through him that if this was how them only grinding together felt like, how good would everything else feel?

Castiel ground down harder and faster now, and Dean answered to the movement with pleasure, matching his rhythm. The fire under his skin only got hotter, and then, weirdly, turned cool from the inside; like there was a cooler heart to the flames licking him.

“Dean,” Cas said. His eyes were starting to glow the otherwordly light, warm and bright. Dean was mesmerized by the blue light, aching to get closer to it.

“Need you,” Dean breathed, and only then realized what he’d said – it had slipped out, naturally, and Dean felt at peace with that.

And suddenly Dean could feel it – he could feel the _actual_ Cas, sliding between his skin and bones and filling him with such warmth and affection that Dean didn’t think he’d ever felt anything like that before. Dean wasn’t sure he could ever even find words to describe how sensational it felt: like cool liquid, burning his every cell and rearranging every part of him, but at the same time, spasming through him like a burst of colors. Just like that, Dean realized that the colors painting on him had to be Cas, leaving their mark on his very soul.

His orgasm ripped through him so fast and harsh that Dean didn’t even realize he’d come at first, and the feeling still didn’t subside. Cas was still moving on top of him, but slower, and the glow was still there. Dean was wrapped up in the cool warmth – that was the only phrase he could apply to the feeling – and wasn’t coming down from the euphoria, not even when Cas gasped and came. Cas’s movements stilled, and he lowered himself on top of Dean like it was a slow dance movement. Dean’s hands, still clutching to Castiel’s forearms, slid up to Cas’s neck. He didn’t have energy for even a single kiss, but he pulled Cas closer, so that they were exchanging the same puffs of air. Dean’s grip on Cas’s neck eventually loosened, and Cas slipped from top of Dean and fell on his side on the bed, and Dean let him, because he was too exhausted to move his arms anymore.

Finally, when the bubble of what-grace-soul-thing-ever loosened around them a bit, Dean realized just how pleasantly exhausted he was and how thirsty he was and how hard he was still breathing. Cas was in similar state, gulping for air like he’d been underwater for years, and they couldn’t do anything but stare up to the ceiling and inhale for several long moments.

“Dude,” Dean panted when he finally felt he had just enough air for that, “we’re definitely doing _that_ again.”

“Dean,” Cas said urgently, “What’s… what’s your refractory period?”

“I’ve no idea,” Dean said, because thinking was hard at this point. “But in the meantime, get over here and kiss me.”


End file.
